Perhaps the filmmaker’s intent was to subtly suggest the surreal aspects of the story, but ultimately she underplays her hand.
It unnecessarily hampers itself for over an hour for the sake of a gotcha moment before finally allowing its actors to explore something more than generic grief.
It only overcomes its deficiencies and gains a modicum of entertainment value precisely when it commits to its illogical storylines and exaggerated plot twists.
The immediate effect is attention-grabbing, distressing, and in a few cases also emotionally affecting.
A new element in Look of Silence is the view it offers of those who knew murdered victims or who managed to escape death.
Theodore Melfi’s debut feature, St. Vincent, is a heartwarmer that never insults.
Writer-director Dan Gilroy does a fantastic job at first of drawing out his protagonist’s eccentricities.
Lynn Shelton’s film feels as rehashed as Dan Gilroy’s Nightcrawler, albeit to entirely pleasant results.
Dolan employs an assortment of stylistic elements that, through their extravagance, stop him just short of owning his characters’ emotions.
Writer-director Ruben Östlund masterfully manages the marital tensions that drive the film’s plot forward.
What Leviathan takes most from Job—and also Thomas Hobbes for that matter—is its focus on subjugation.
The female characters on Mad Men are probably the show’s strongest asset, but here they’re hollow to the point of insult.
The repetitive rhythms of Joaquim Pinto’s daily routines provide the film with a feeling of serenity that stands in contrast to the man’s underlying anxiety.
There’s no attempt to convince us that the world is being corrupted by people who haven’t accepted the Gospel; it merely assumes we agree with that idea.
It seems too enamored with the seductive notion of an honorable criminal, too ready to take Bulger’s justifications as actual indications of his relative innocence.
The emotional and political point through all this isn’t to be taken lightly, but because the entirety of the film has such a nihilistic temperament, its effect is muted.
It becomes clear pretty quickly that Mike and Carlos Boettcher’s insider perspective allows for close to no context beyond what their cameras directly capture.
The film is concerned largely with intellectual horrors and portrays the fight against slavery rather neatly as a growing feeling of internal guilt that slowly turns society toward the light.
What’s missing is any provocative or poignant insights into the “truth” about Emanuel; all we get are vague hints.